"Your words have no power to alter the truth. Your perception does not affect any reality but your own... it is your words and deeds that cast your reflection. "

~Luna Jade, musician

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

More flags and they're all red. TMI alert

WARNING: Heads up this entry definitely has extreme TMI in it. Like I said before, this unfortunately is part of the history of this particular segment of my life. If you dont want to read stuff like this I encourage you to close this entry and head either to the Home page, my Main blog or my MySpace.




Last chance to turn back....






When we left the last entry I had said the engagement was constantly on and off repeatedly and there were times I wanted to take that ring (that belonged to my gramma initially) and throw it at him. Actually I really felt like stuffing it up his nose or in some other uncomfortable orafice...but I digress.

04/23/2003

If that wasnt a major flag, I dunno what is. The fights werent bad at the house. We managed (somehow) to keep it from the folks. Many nights (every actually) I would sit alone in the livingroom while he went to his room and locked me out (FLAG!) for almost an hour. Why did I permit this? I dunno. Was feeling old and lonely I guess. When we moved to our own place, nothing changed. He still locked himself away everynight- sometimes twice or three times on weekend nights. Sex was almost non-existant here as well as anyplace down the road. Having to chase him down everytime. Him not wanting anything until too late at night for me to be awake to want it. Worse yet was him simply being disgusted with the very act of it. Not wanting to reciprocate certain acts because he thought they were gross. Him taking and taking and not giving the gratification back. Most embarrassing is when he goes lax (soft) when the time for penetration arrives. I dont mean occasionally- I mean everytime. It got so bad that I swear he didnt want it at all unless he was drunk. Seems like the last dozen times or more the only time we did was when we were (or better say HE was) drunk or he was depressed. I so stopped desiring sex from him about the time we moved to Louisiana. Foreplay became nonexistant too. Even just the kissing, petting, snuggling reduced into shorter and shorter periods. Even stopped spooning- that was my fault though as I would push away if it was too hot or if I was on my cycle. But it was never meant to be permanent...NEVER. Up until a month ago, he never did spoon. Always back to back. Two weeks ago he started to spoon again. In December, he *finally* found me desirable again. Really cheesed me off what he said... "Gee, keep losing weight like that and we'll have kids in no time!" Yes...indeed. Ok why not just tell me Ive been too fat now? And he's an Adonnis?? NOT!!! Ok now I feel fat, undesirable and old too. Needless to say, I was pissed.

Gonna stop here for a moment. Looks like I headed into a tangent again. I tend to do that while telling stories especially if a section like that triggers a later memory. Then the later memory just takes over and needs to work itself out. By the looks of the writing itself , I was pissed to the point of being nearly illegible. A prime example of why I dont normally write when Im really, really, really mad.

Sex is a give and take dance. It's no fun when only one gives and the other not only doesnt but wont. Im not sure what was going on mentally with this critter, but he surely didnt seem to enjoy the act no way no how.

I dont know what it is about men and being so damn hot blooded. Both men I've been to bed with both generate a shitload of body heat. In NY with Jim, spooning wasnt an issue because in the winter you NEEDED the warmth. The only time I didnt want it is when I was cramped up and personally I dont like anyone that close behind me when Im feeling like that...plus his arm was heavy so it added to the pain. In Louisiana, it was a different matter because it was hot even WITH the central air going 24/7...plus there was no ceiling fans to circulate the air in the bedrooms upstairs. That type of heat (even in winter) is not condusive to comfortable spooning. So basically after awhile, he stopped trying.

In late 2002, I started losing some weight. It wasnt anything I was doing purposefully, it was just coming off due to where I was now working (a AA volume store as opposed to the D volume store in Louisiana...meant I had to move my ass fast to get shit done). Well between that and having to walk to a busstop 3 times a week and the fact there was no money for food because it was all budgeted for bills and bus fare every week. We had no refrig in the apartment we were renting and no money to get one. Basically I could only buy spoilables for the one meal a week and the rest was canned or boxed food. We had to eat it all because there was no place to keep left overs. Top things all off with a steady diet of peanut butter sandwiches or peanut butter toast depending on if it was breakfast or lunch. It really sucked. The sugar got used running around and needless to say my body HAD to work off the extra stores of fat. I wasnt exercising any more than usual above and beyond work...the weight was just coming off. So NOW he finds me desirable. Ex-CUSE me? Even at my thinnest (129 lbs...I was fkn skin and bones... had to work hard and starve to get down that far) he didnt find me desirable why the hell now!??!! And to make a statement like that?? I dont think so, not with that disfunctional tool buddy. If the sailors are too afraid to come off the boat, they wont be invading Normandy...sorry. And then to make me feel fat all this time (although I was but weight's always been a problem with me you knew before you married me) while you aint all that either. At least I can carry my weight better. That comment he made was just as I was getting ready so we could go upstairs to M* and R*'s apartment because they were cooking a Christmas supper for us. He hadnt noticed the weight loss til then because I usually wear all my clothes really large because I get warm fast so I like to make sure there's some airflow around me. Actually he should have noticed because I run around in my night clothes on the off days just because it's more comfortable. Shows you how observant the ass was....to say something that callous and right before I had to have my happy face on. *grumblez*

We went to M*'s for supper and he tried everything to be the doting loving husband. Had to have a drink before touching me....and still didnt go where he should (not that I would have allowed it but to try woulda said something).

That night was pure torture. I think M* figured out it was but not until a few weeks after. Im not sure. Damn ass got himself good and tipsy. Not that it took much as we were only social drinkers. I personally dont drink alot because I make a very mean , hurtful drinker. I know my limits and stick by them religiously (well as religiously as humanly possible). I dont recall having much to drink that night otherwise we would have for certain ended up in a fight afterwards.

Well anyway, in that first apartment the fighting happened, just not as often as we weren't working in the same place anymore. But results always the same all the time- I run off crying and then beg forgiveness for hours afterwards, usually to no avail, and then he'd act like nothing happened. When we moved to the trailor in Kirkville it was just as bad. We'd fight, I'd cry, beg and suddenly nothing was ever wrong. Wouldnt take my apology, and wouldnt apologize in return.

Gonna stop here as the whole diary got really disjointed there. The next entry isnt much so I think I'll skip it all together. It's the last entry I wrote in the diary and it doesnt make much sense anyhow. I dont know if it was because I wanted to just forget the past or if I was deliriously happy at the time. I cant even remember where I was. It's dated 06/01/2003. I think I may have been at my SCSis's place at that point.

I remember those fights like they were yesterday though. He'd get to screaming at me about something or other. Sometimes it was something I did, sometimes it was something I couldnt control. I'd apologize, even if it wasnt my fault (sometimes, many times in fact, it was HIS own friggin fault). I'd apologize several times and go off and have my cry. I seem to remember going into a closet several times because everytime I'd cry he'd hollar at me more so I figured if I was hidden away he'd not hear me as much...then he wouldnt yell anymore. Thing is, I have an irritable temper. My natural proclivity is to scream, swear and throw or hit something. This is something I've worked very hard to over come. As such, now Im not sure what to do with myself short of crying to work that pent up frustration out of my system. Damn I really need a therapist, Im sure, but I think Im doing ok working some of this out of my system.

Cant decide what my next entry is going to be like. Havent really had to plan them out because it was all there in my own handwriting. I may go back over some of this. If I repeat something I already said, please forgive me. Just keep reading because it may go into more depth than I had originally.

3 comments:

ChicagoLady said...

I love your analogy...If the sailors are too afraid to come off the boat, they wont be invading Normandy.. Priceless!

Debby said...

I agree priceless. I have never heard that analogy before...

LadyStyx said...

Thank you. I still have some side effects from being married to a master degreed history teacher. Actually was having another memory from earlier in the relationship as I was typing that. Once I get that story typed out you'll understand why I chose that particular analogy.